Doug’s Blog

Last week, a story in Slate about one woman’s attempt to become a morning person struck a chord with me. I identified all too well with the lede.

When I told my friends I had found a way to transform myself into a morning person, they responded in one of two ways. The night people leaned in as if I were about to reveal the location of a stash of pirate gold. The morning people simply regarded me with pity and wonder. “I just don’t understand why it’s so hard,” said one friend, a Danish medical student. “I can get up anytime I want.”

To a dawn-deprived night crawler such as myself, waking up at 10 or later has long been a sure way to appear lazy in the eyes of the successful. My propensity for staying up and waking up late dates back to high school, and it has only intensified since then. It’s not uncommon for me to go to bed while the sun is rising.

Truth is, I like staying up late. I get work done, I send e-mail, I watch movies and I listen to music, all while the rest of America snoozes. And back when I worked on a copy desk, work fit right in to my late-night lifestyle.

But after reading about the marginal success (or outright failure, depending on how you look at it) of the Slate writer, I decided (within minutes or reading the article) that I had to try it too.

Why change if being a night owl works for me? Well, I never said being a night owl works for me. I said I like it. In fact, it very much doesn’t work for me. It makes me feel isolated from a world on a different schedule. I wake up, and half the day is over. And besides, someday (hopefully sooner than later) I’ll have a job that requires me to get up at 6 like the rest of the downtown drones.

So I did what the article said. I bought the melatonin. I limited my evening light exposure. I set my alarm. I took a morning walk. And it all felt great. The first day.

I chronicled it via Twitter.

• 6:18 p.m.: I decide to become a morning person with a magical article.
• 7:43 p.m.: I ponder one of life’s great questions.
• 7:50 p.m.: I buy the melatonin.
• 8:11 p.m.: I consider giving up the experiment because of all the great things on the Internet that await my discovery.
• 9:14 p.m.: I am a little drowsy. Just a little.
• 9:15 p.m.: I am passing time.
• 9:32 p.m.: I still passing time.
• 9:42 p.m.: I am watching Hulu.
• 10:09 p.m.: I am wide awake.
• 10:43 p.m.: I am being stubborn.
• 10:58 p.m.: I try to sleep.
• 6:02 a.m.: I am awake and agitated.
• 6:38 a.m.: I am walking. It’s beautiful outside.
• 7:35 a.m.: I am reading The New York Times.

That’s where the chronicle ends. That day turned out to be fairly normal for me. I sat in on a couple classes that I later decided not to take. I went to bed at a reasonable time.

And then I woke up around 11 the next day. And here I am writing about the whole experience at 2:40 a.m.